


Silence is Golden

by Quillaninc



Category: Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillaninc/pseuds/Quillaninc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you talk to someone when they just. won't. stop. still!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence is Golden

**Author's Note:**

> Much belated gift fic for Mendax on LJ

"Whoops!" Lance shut the bathroom door as quickly as he could, turning beet red at his blunder, and called out to the bathroom's unsuspecting occupant. "S-sorry, Sven! Thought it was free!"

Well, if sneak looks were free, he'd gotten himself a pretty good one. All sleek muscle and damp skin and curling dark hair and long, strong legs and tight ass and... and... and...

Oh hell.

Lance could feel his ears burning and something else reacting entirely inappropriately as he stammered out another apology and belted down the hallway as fast as he could manage, all 'a dither', as his grandmother would have said.

Inside the bathroom, Sven gave a frustrated sigh and went back to scrubbing at his hair with a towel, completely unfazed by his nakedness. What did have him out of sorts was _that man_! Dammit!

While Lance mightn't have known that Sven was in the bathroom, Sven had sure as hell known it was Lance coming down the hallway towards it. He could hear it in his footsteps. Hence the towel currently pooled beside the bath - the one which had previously hung on his hips.

For weeks - _months _\- Sven had been trying so damn hard to pin the guy down. Long, hungry looks; casual touches that lingered just that little bit longer than they should; inviting Lance to spot for him down in the gym room; offering to spot for Lance - just about everything he could think of.

At least, 'everything' without making a complete fool of himself and just blurting it out. Actually, he'd even considered that, too. But ...

'Lance. I'm in love with you.' Feh! Too girlish.

'Lance, you know I think you're really hot, right?' Oh yeah. A real smooth operator in action, right there.

'Lance, how's your bed lately? Mine's sort of lonely." Gah!!

However, his biggest problem, he'd decided - besides an attack of the bad pick up lines - was Lance himself. He just would not stop still long enough for Sven to even begin to say something. If he wasn't hurrying to somewhere, or from somewhere, he was babbling - filling up the space between them with so many words, Sven had a time of it just getting in the odd murmur of agreement. It was annoying. Very annoying. And frustrating.

It seemed that, of late, the words 'Lance' and 'frustration' were irrevocably entwined in Sven's mind … not to mention, his sleep. It was getting beyond a joke - and now, it was time to do something about it.

He tracked his fellow pilot down in the hallway a short while later. "Lance, about earlier..."

"Ah, yeah." Lance flushed and glanced away sheepishly, nervously scratching at his nape. "Look, I'm really sorry about that. Honest, I didn't know you were in there, and you know - well, I hope you know - that I'd never do something to embarrass you or anything, so if we can just forget all about it, that'd be just fine with me, I mean, I'd hate to think there's any awkwardness between us or anything, coz, ahm, yeah... well..."

The sound of Keith's voice over the PA commanding Lance to the control centre managed to achieve the one thing Sven hadn't, for all that he'd tried. It shut Lance up.

"Oh hell! I'm late again. Sorry, Sven. Gotta run." Lance threw him another sheepish grin and dashed halfway down the corridor before he spun back. "Glad we got that sorted out, though, pal! See ya!" he tossed out, almost too brightly, and then he was off running again.

Sven folded his arms, ground his teeth together forcefully, and counted to ten beneath his breath. In Swedish. Then German. Then English. And Japanese.

His French was so rusty, it only served to frustrate him further. But by that time, it didn't matter. Lance was too far out of range for Sven to bean him with whatever happened to be nearby - priceless vase on a hall table, as it so happened. That was probably a good thing, although Sven's dentist probably wouldn't agree as he ground his teeth yet again.

Maybe he should talk to Keith.

* * *

"Quite a problem you've got there, Sven. Any ideas?"

Sven pondered Keith's question while he toyed with the dart in his fingers, casually eyeing the board on the wall. "I don't know," he mused, taking aim. Thunk! Bullseye! "Elephant dart, maybe?"

Keith snorted. "Think that'd stop him?" he asked as he stepped up to the mark and took his turn. Thunk! Damn, too low.

"Perhaps not, but it'd have to slow him down a bit, surely!" Thunk! Not bad. Not bad at all. A couple more like that, and he'd be a shoe-in.

"Oh, sure. That's not wishful thinking talking, oh no! Not at all!" Thunk! Ok-ish. He'd have to do better, though. This was Sven, and the bastard rarely lost. Ah, but he had an excellent little diversionary tactic right at hand, to throw his teammate off. "You know what I think the problem is?"

Sven paused, mid throw. "What?"

Keith smiled wickedly. "He's running. So, you either catch up, or slow him down. Good luck on that, by the way. You'll need it."

Shit. If Keith was right, then that was not good. Not good at all. After all, that could mean Lance was running from _Sven_, or from Sven's _feelings_, or from _himself_, or...

His mind was racing, when a sudden thought dragged it to a screeching halt. True as Keith's words might be, this wouldn't be the first time his captain had tried to out-psych an opponent. One look at the smug crinkle at the edges of Keith's eyes, and he knew he was right.

The bastard. Ok. Time to focus - he could figure out the rest later. Grit the teeth. Aim. Thunk! Blast it! Well, could be worse.

Thud, clatter!

Like Keith's. Sven snickered. "I think you missed your goal," he laughed, nodding at the dart on the ground, "and in more ways than one, my friend." He winked, just to let his captain know he was on to his sneaky ways.

Keith bent to pick up his fallen dart and glared balefully at it. "I'm thinking I'm not the only one, my friend," he shot back, and gave Sven a very meaningful look.

Sven stared back at him, mildly puzzled. "Am I missing something else, here?" he asked.

Keith shrugged, an annoying smirk playing on his lips. "I dunno, Sven. Are you?" he replied. Toss. Thud. Smirk.

"Hey! My shot!"

Keith grinned at his friend's indignation as he walked over to chalk up their points on the tally board. "Yeah, yeah. You still win, anyway." He tapped the chalkboard and flipped a knowing smile at Sven. "At least, this time you do," he added. "But Sven, don't forget: you snooze, you lose. It's gonna happen eventually, if you don't do something soon."

Ah. They weren't just on the subject of darts any more - if they ever were. "So, go on. Enlighten me with your masterful wisdom, oh great guru," Sven drawled, leaning against the wall, arms folded and ankles crossed with a casual air.

Keith rolled his eyes and sauntered over to place a friendly hand on Sven's shoulder. "It's easy, Sven. If you want him to stop long enough for you to catch up, give him a reason to. And please, do the rest of us a favour and hurry up. You're not the only one he's driving insane."

Sven was left blinking over the ridiculously simple solution as the rec room door hushed closed. Just ... how the hell was he going to achieve it?

* * *

After that disastrous morning in the bathroom - the one responsible for even more sleep-wrecked nights than ever for Lance as he tossed and turned - he'd noticed a burning new intensity in Sven's eyes. It made him nervous. Very nervous.

It wasn't that Lance didn't want to see his friend - of course he did. The problem was that he'd already seen way more than he ought to have, and between that and his imagination, being anywhere near Sven made Lance more than a tad jittery.

That, his imagination, and the little demon in his head that kept insisting that all the little comments and looks of Sven's in the last six months hadn't just been Lance's perverted mind playing tricks, and that his dark haired, cool-eyed friend really had been coming on to him.

His dark haired, cool-eyed friend, with the lean, toned body and the long, strong legs, and the tightest as-

... had been...

...Uh...

... Oh hell...

Just the thought was enough to make his face turn red and his palms sweat. That was a big enough problem in the dark hours after midnight when his mind just wouldn't shut down. Those hours when Lance could actually do something about it, regardless of how depraved and dirty it made him feel.

But when those thoughts snuck up and ambushed him as Lance came face to face with Sven himself, it was either get himself out of there quick smart, or do some fancy footwork explaining why he was lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree.

He'd been rather successful at this game of dodgems in the last few weeks. And if it wasn't his legs doing the running, it was his heart, pounding so hard he was sure he was about to black out.

And if it wasn't his heart, it was his mouth, running off with all sorts of crazy things without checking with headquarters first. It was as if he had no control over it at all ... and that was scaring him witless as well.

He refused to let himself be alone with Sven for too long in any one place, because if he did, he was probably going to do something incredibly embarrassing. Like shove the man up against a wall and do his damnedest to find out if Sven preferred a mint toothpaste to a gel, when all the guy probably wanted was to know what the time was.

It hadn't been easy. It seemed like it didn't matter where Lance chose to hide, there Sven was. And the more Lance hid, the more determined Sven seemed to get.

And ... given that Sven had just rounded the corner with that _look _on his face, it was time Lance found some place else to be. Right now. Three times in one day was already too much.

"Lance! Wait up!"

"Uh..." He spun on his heel to face Sven while he continued to walk backwards, all the while hoping his nervous grin would pass off as sheepish. "Hi... Sorry ... Gotta dash. I ... uh ... Yeah ... um, gotta go. We'll catch up later, hey? Rec room, after supper, maybe? See ya!" Feet, start walking! Fast.

He almost made it. Almost. He just hadn't counted on Sven being faster than he was for once.

"Lance! I said wait up!" In a desperate lunge, Sven grabbed Lance by one arm, swinging him around to meet him face to face. Composing himself as best he could, he pitched his voice down to a conversational level and quietly asked, "Do you think you could do me a favour, Lance?"

"A f-favour?" Lance stammered, stunned. "S-sure, Sven. Anything you like. I'm here for you, buddy, whatever you n..."

A gentle finger against his lips stopped his nervous rambling, and he looked at Sven with wide, panicky eyes as his dark haired friend leaned very close.

"Just ... stay where you are, and be quiet for a moment," Sven said, slowly, carefully, as one would to a child. "Ok? Can you do that for me, Lance? Stop a moment?"

Lance nodded, very slowly, trying hard not to notice the texture of that one calloused finger brushing against his lips, still looking at Sven like a stunned rabbit.

"Right. Good." Taking a moment to catch his breath - and still his heart - Sven exhaled heavily as he brought his eyes up to Lance's. The he smiled. "I've been trying to catch you," he remarked softly.

"Uh, yeah, sorry, I ..."

Sven's sudden frown stopped the words on his lips as one dark eyebrow cocked, chiding gently as Sven tapped his own slightly pursed lips with his forefinger, hushing Lance soundlessly, a playful twinkle dancing in his eye.

Oh God, those lips were inviting. So was that finger, which had returned to his lips. It was all he could do not to slip out his tongue and see if it really did taste as good as he imagined.

This ... this couldn't be just wishful thinking, surely? Staring wide-eyed, he valiantly ignored his shuffling feet and decided to chance his luck. "Ahm, Sven?"

"Yes Lance?"

"Wh-why'd you want me to ... y'know ... stop a moment?" Peeking beneath his dark chestnut-brown bangs, Lance's eyes were full of apprehensive curiosity, as though he just had to know, despite himself.

It was enough to make Sven smile. "So I could finally get to do this."

Lance gave a tiny squeak as Sven's lips replaced his finger, the softest, barest hint of a request in their gentle brush over his. A tongue carefully licked at his top lip, asking for permission, yet respectfully keeping its distance nonetheless.

Lance whimpered, not even realising that his eyes were drifting at half mast, or that his hands had abandoned their useless fluttering at his sides and were sliding up to wind around Sven's deliciously muscular body. All that registered was the gentle, easy brush of lips against lips.

Then Sven's tongue took advantage of his whimper and licked a little deeper; not too far, just enough to trace the curve of Lance's lip, to sweep along the slight gap between and probe, seduce, invite ...

... you could tell a lot about the way a man made love by how he kissed, Lance thought idly...

Then he groaned deeper as his mind snatched up that random image and projected it high and wide on the holographic screen of his imagination, twisting and turning for him to view in all its glorious sensuality it, until his knees were shaking with need and hunger.

He could feel Sven's hand sliding into his hair as the arm around his waist tightened further, and the heat of Sven's skin, the slide of fabric against muscle, the slight nudge of a thigh between his - all these things together made thinking any further completely impossible.

He came to a semblance of his senses only when his head was tucked into Sven's shoulder, gentle, wanting kisses being pressed to his temple, the curve of his cheekbone, the edge of his lips. It made him smile and tentatively press himself even closer to Sven's enticing warmth.

"Uh... Sven?"

"Mmm?"

Sven seemed more interested in sifting his hands through Lance's hair and trying to steal a few more kisses than replying. Lance found himself chuckling as he snuck in a kiss or two of his own. "Tell me I'm ... not dreaming this."

"Oh God, I hope not," Sven muttered. "I don't think I can let go now I've gotten this far."

Lance pulled back just enough to smile shyly, peering at Sven through his bangs once more. "This ... isn't gonna change anything, though, is it?" he asked nervously. "I mean, if it's gonna cause a problem or anything, th-"

He abruptly fell silent again. He had to, with Sven kissing him like that.

"See?" Sven breathed against his lips when he ended the kiss this time. "Silence is golden."

"Mmm." A slow grin spread across Lance's face as he wound his arms tighter around Sven. "Do you think..." He stole a lingering kiss. "...you could ..." And another. "...show me that again?" And another.

Of course, Sven was more than happy to. And when they were both too breathless to speak ...

"Mmm... Sven? Just ... one more thing?"

... Well, maybe not completely breathless. Sven began to laugh helplessly. "Yes, Lance?"

"You don't want me to _always _be quiet do you?" Lance was grinned at him stupidly, with just the tiniest hint of a naughty twinkle in his eye.

Sven had to admit, sometimes silence wasn't always the best.

* * *

"Anyone else notice something odd around here?"

Keith looked up from his book at Hunk's question. His gaze ran over the parts of the rec room he could see from his vantage point on the couch, before he realised what it was.

With a satisfied smirk, he returned to his reading. "Yeah. It's quiet."

~ Owari ~


End file.
